The Edge (12 page)

They crossed the car park and a set of corporate gardens. A sprinkler was firing spray over the glistening grass. Jake was dazzled by how pristine the place was – this was the clean side of money, away from the dirty underbelly. As they walked, two people in business suits hurried past them at almost a run. Jake noticed people at a lot of the windows too, all staring at something just ahead.

‘What’s going on?’ Jake broke into a jog.

They rounded the wall at the end of the gardens, and saw an ambulance parked up alongside two police cars near the
entrance to the LGE block. A crowd of at least fifty people had gathered, and were being pushed back as the police drew a cordon tape across the front. Some people looked upwards, pointing and muttering.

Jake pushed through the crowd, and came face to face with a uniformed cop. He got a firm shove in the chest.

‘Get back!’ said the cop. ‘Let us do our job.’

Jake peered behind the police officer. A sheet had been pulled over a motionless body on the ground. It wasn’t big enough to cover the blood spatter as well.

Not another one
! thought Jake.

‘Who is it?’ Veronika asked.

‘It’s Ed,’ said a woman with a handkerchief clutched over her face.

‘He was the marketing director,’ said a suited man. ‘Jumped off the roof.’

Ed?
‘Edgar Phillips?’ Jake said.

A
gust of wind blew across the entrance to the LGE offices, catching the edge of the sheet covering the body. The sole of one of the dead man’s shoes appeared, and Jake made out the word
Mancino
embossed in the leather: No doubt. It was Phillips.

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Veronika, shaking her head. ‘I saw him leave the complex earlier. He seemed fine.’

Dr Chow stepped out from behind the ambulance, talking with a paramedic. Her eyes were red and when she saw the body she burst into fresh tears and buried her face in the paramedic’s chest. Jake remembered the kiss he’d seen behind the medical centre and felt a rush of sympathy. He hadn’t liked Phillips, but he and Dr Chow had obviously been close.

When Dr Chow saw Jake, she seemed startled, and took a deep breath to regain her composure, then walked over.

‘Jake, Veronika,’ she said, suddenly businesslike, ‘you shouldn’t be here. You –’ Her face crumpled, and she covered her mouth.

‘I’m really sorry for your loss, Dr Chow,’ Jake said, not knowing where to look.

‘Oh, it’s terrible,’ she sobbed. ‘I was supposed to meet Ed . . . Mr Phillips, for lunch. I was late. If only I’d arrived . . . if only.’ She buried her face in both hands as the tears flowed.

‘Come on,’ Jake said to Veronika. ‘We should leave.’

He turned to go, but Veronika didn’t. ‘Why would he kill himself?’ she asked, a little too briskly for Jake’s liking.

‘Vron,’ he whispered. ‘Now’s not the time . . .’

‘Dr Chow,’ Veronika pressed, reaching for the doctor’s elbow.

Dr Chow glanced up once more. She sniffed deeply.

‘The police are saying he had a note pinned to his chest,’ she said, ‘but I can’t believe it.’

‘A suicide note?’ Veronika asked.

Jeez
, Jake thought,
the woman’s just lost her boyfriend. Go easy on her.

Jake thought he saw a flash of fire in Dr Chow’s eyes that quickly died. She nodded. ‘Apparently he claimed responsibility for all the deaths at the camp – something to
do with financial irregularities. He thought the police were on to him. But I can’t . . . I
won’t
believe it.’ She took a few sniffs. ‘Anyway, you shouldn’t really be here.’ She squinted at Jake and Veronika as if she was seeing them for the first time. ‘What
are
you doing here?’

Jake spotted a brown sedan cruising slowly towards the building.
Damn!
Merski.

‘We should be getting back.’ Jake grabbed Veronika by the arm and pulled her through the crowd, keeping bodies between them and the detective’s car.

‘Hey! What are you doing?’ Veronika said, pulling free.

Jake pointed through the crowd, as Merski was heaving his bulk out of the driver’s door. The sweat patches under his arms stretched almost down to his waist.

‘We
really
don’t want to be found at another crime scene,’ he said.

‘This isn’t a crime scene,’ said Veronika. ‘Phillips committed suicide.’

‘Maybe the police won’t see it like that,’ said Jake.

As Jake and Veronika took the long way back to her car, past more office workers hurrying to get a glimpse of a dead body, he wondered if he even believed the suicide story. Phillips was rotten to the core, so was he really the sort of guy who’d feel so guilty about ‘financial irregularities’?

Dinner at the camp was delayed as all the athletes were again summoned to the gym hall for an impromptu announcement. Merski and his colleague stood behind the podium as Krantz told everyone the case was officially closed.

‘The sad death of our colleague Edgar Phillips has brought the answers we were all searching for. I’m pleased to say the camp can now continue as normal, and we can all get back to what we do best: honest, competitive sport.’

Jake saw Krantz fighting to keep the smile spreading across his face.

‘The worst thing we could do,’ continued Krantz, ‘is let the tragic deaths of Otto Kahn, BeBe Erquidez and Pedro Garcia cloud our own efforts to excel. For their sake as much as our own, let’s carry on.’

A round of applause echoed through the hall, but Jake didn’t feel like clapping. Of course Krantz was happy. With Phillips conveniently claiming responsibility, the heat was off the real culprit. And he, the director, could fulfil his obligations and dig himself out of a financial black hole.

Phillips’s suicide didn’t add up. It seemed too convenient. And no one seemed to know exactly why Phillips had killed each of his supposed victims.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Veronika leaving
through a side door of the hall with her mobile phone to her ear. Merski had taken the podium and was telling the other athletes that there’d be lots of media interest in what had happened at the camp, but that they should be wary of talking to journalists.

Jake left the hall after Veronika. Outside, he couldn’t locate her at first. Jake was about to turn back when he spotted her. She was standing beside the same 4x4 that had been hanging around since the start of the camp. Jake could see the window was wound down and Veronika was gesturing wildly and shouting at the person inside, but Jake couldn’t hear her words. A hand shot out and tried to grab her, but she backed off and started to walk away. Next, two guys emerged from the back doors of the vehicle and hurried after her.

That’s enough!
thought Jake. He ran down the verge into the car park as the first of the guys tried to steer Veronika back to the 4x4.

‘Hey! Get off her!’ Jake shouted as he approached.

She saw him. ‘No, Jake,’ she said. ‘Not now.’

The two thugs each grabbed one of Veronika’s arms. They looked at Jake then back to the car, as if waiting for instructions. They were both built like juggernauts, but Jake hardly felt any fear. Veronika tried to twist free of the thug’s iron grip. Jake wasted no time. Once he reached Veronika,
he swung his foot into the first guy’s groin and the man folded like a house of cards on to his knees with a moan. Veronika stumbled back, free from her attackers. Jake faced the second, fists raised.

‘Jake, you don’t understand,’ said Veronika, stepping between him and the remaining guy.

Jake ignored her. ‘Let the girl alone,’ he told the one guy still standing.

‘It’s OK, Jake.’ She took a step closer to him. ‘Please just stay out of this.’ Jake could see that she was scared.

‘You should listen to the girl,’ said a Russian voice behind him.

Jake spun round as the car door opened. Igor Popov climbed out.

He wore the same pale suit as the last time Jake had caught sight of him. His skin was almost white, as if he’d been keeping out of the sun. Jake hadn’t seen the Russian up close since the day in St Petersburg when he’d casually mentioned the deaths of Christian Truman and his son. Jake knew Popov was responsible for the Trumans’ deaths, even though no one could ever prove it.

‘I knew you were caught up in all this,’ Jake said.

‘This is none of your business,’ said Popov. ‘I want you to leave us alone, Mr Bastin.’

‘Wait!’ said Veronika. ‘You two know each other?’

Popov’s eyes glittered. ‘You might say that.’

‘Just get the hell out of here before I call security,’ said Jake. ‘Leave Veronika alone. What are you? Some pathetic old stalker?’

The thug who Jake had kicked eyeballed him with malicious intent.

Popov smiled, and his gaze shifted to Veronika. ‘Stalker? I’ve been called worse. Do you want to tell him, sweetheart, or shall I?’

Jake found the way he said ‘sweetheart’ sickening. ‘Tell me what?’

Veronika sighed. ‘I didn’t want you to get involved in all this.’ She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing red. ‘Jake, meet my dad.’

J
ake felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Then slapped about the face for good measure. He glanced from Veronika to Popov, then back again. He searched both faces for a resemblance, but it just wasn’t there. Veronika sounded as Californian as they came.

‘No way,’ he mumbled.

Popov nodded, and the thug next to Veronika retreated back to his side like a good guard dog.

‘It’s true,’ Veronika said, giving Popov a hard stare. ‘I lied about only seeing my dad a couple of times a year. Until five days ago, we’d never even met. I’ve lived with my mom in LA my whole life. She wanted nothing to do with
him
.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Jake said.

‘When I heard my daughter was going to be attending the camp, I thought it would be a good opportunity to make contact,’ Popov explained, shuffling his foot slightly.

Jake had never seen him so meek.

‘And I’ve told my
dad
that he can shove his newfound interest up his ass,’ Veronika said through gritted teeth.

‘You only need time,’ Popov said. ‘I’m your father. I care about you. I can open all sorts of doors for you, my dear . . .’

‘I’ve done OK on my own, thanks,’ she snarled back.

Popov opened the door to the 4x4 and beckoned inside. ‘Perhaps we should go for a drive.’

‘Screw you.’ Veronika stomped away across the car park towards her car. Jake stared at Popov for a few more seconds, then went after her.

‘Veronika, wait!’ he called. She didn’t break her stride as she climbed into her car, and started the engine. Jake reached for the handle on the passenger side, but heard the click of the central locking.

With a screech of rubber, the Porsche sped off. Popov waved to Jake and climbed casually into the 4x4. Soon Jake was all alone in the car park.
Goodbye and good riddance to all the Popovs
, Jake thought.
How could I have been so wrong about her?

Back in his room, Jake kicked a ball at the wall over and over. So much for Veronika Richardson. She had Popov’s blood running through her veins. He’d trusted her absolutely, told
her everything, but she’d been keeping the biggest secret of all. What else had she been hiding from him? Maybe she was more mixed up in this than he thought.

He started doing kick-ups, trying to get his thoughts in order. Did his dad know who Veronika really was? Could MI6 really
not
know that Igor Popov had a daughter living in the States? Especially as she was on the verge of making it big . . . He’d thought he was getting closer to answers about what was happening at Olympic Advantage, but he couldn’t trust anyone.

The door to his room opened. Veronika came in, holding a bottle of white Olympic Edge.

‘You could have knocked,’ Jake said. ‘I thought I told you not to drink that stuff.’

‘I’ll do what I like,’ she said, taking a gulp. ‘And you’re hardly one to talk about intruding on other people’s privacy. What did you think you were doing?’

Jake retrieved the ball from her feet. ‘I want you to leave,’ he said. ‘Now.’

‘We need to talk,’ she said.

Jake turned towards the window. ‘Why? So you can lie to me some more?’

‘I haven’t lied to you,’ Veronika said.

‘You forgot to mention your dad is a Russian gangster.’

‘Hey! Don’t talk about him like that! You know nothing about him.’

‘Ha!’ Jake laughed bitterly. ‘I know I can’t trust him. Just like I can’t trust you.’

‘Is that right?’ she said. ‘Just because I didn’t feel ready to share my family troubles? Don’t be such an immature little
boy
!’

Jake rounded on her. ‘You don’t know Popov like I do,’ he said. ‘He’s scum!’

His words seemed to hit her like a blow, and she rocked back on her heels. ‘He might not be perfect,’ she said quietly, ‘but he’s not the monster you make him out to be.’

‘I don’t care!’ spat Jake. ‘Your dad’s a killer. A low-life crook. Don’t you see –’

Veronika’s hand caught his cheek in a vicious slap that sounded like a whip-crack. Half a second later the burn spread across the side of his face. There were tears in Veronika’s eyes.

‘You’re a liar. You’re no better than your father,’ Jake said.

Veronika started to tremble, and saliva was gathering in the corners of her mouth. The bottle of Olympic Edge fell out of her hand, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

‘Vron?’

Jake saw her knees buckle, and he leapt to catch her.
He eased her down on to the floor. Her whole body started to shake violently, and her fingernails dug into his arm like talons. Jake tried to hold her steady with one arm, and with the other reached into her mouth to stop her swallowing her own tongue.

‘Vron,’ he repeated. ‘Can you hear me?’

A strange rattling noise was coming from her throat, but gradually the convulsions died. Jake rolled her into the recovery position, then checked the pulse in her throat. Her heart was thumping at close to one-eighty, but her breathing was shallow. It had to be the drink.

Jake scooped her into his arms and went to the door. As soon as he was in the corridor, he shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Someone call an ambulance.’ Heads poked out of various doors along the corridor. ‘Don’t just stand there!’ he yelled. ‘Call 911!’